"February"
February forgot me, and I swore, myself,
I wouldn't give my conscience the chance to look back.

But if you're asking me now:
I'd rather see you as the ice in my veins,
So I could watch you until you disappeared.
If you were standing by me as I walked away
You could have kept me if you wanted me here.

But at least I'm making strides where the trail is cold,
My hands curled fast around the warmth I hold.
Sometimes its like a brick behind my throat,
Now it's the heat from her skin, beneath her clothes.